


Getting Answers

by Churbooseanon



Series: Guns For Hire [15]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gore, Guns For Hire AU, Mercenaries, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:39:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1983354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s found over the years that there are three ways to get the information he wanted out of someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Answers

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Guns For Hire AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/61764) by Synnesai. 



> Another Guns For Hire AU set story. Just playing with the concept of Florida/The Informant.

He’s found over the years that there are three ways to get the information he wanted out of someone.

There was the easy way. This involved conversation or liberal application of money. The easy way was the least fun, but the most efficient spreading of force and effort if he really thought about it. Typically people didn’t turn to the Informant for information that could be gotten the easy way.

There was the hard way. This involved anything from blackmail to hacking to taking it from them as they lay beaten or on the edge of death. More time had to be invest, as did more physical and mental effort. Yet the information that could be gleaned the hard way tended to yield secrets that people paid vast sums of money for. It was information gained the hard way that kept CT and Informant busy, the two of them dividing the work based on whose specialties best addressed the problems.

Then there was the slow way. The way that required him to sit down with his subject and work with them for hours. The way that needed him to find a dark, quiet place that could be lit for his work. The way that had him bringing out his full kit. The way that was reserved for the biggest jobs.

Or for people who hurt or stood between Florida and those he had come to care about.

"We’re not getting anything out of him," Number One growled, her voice filled with frustration and her fists clenched at her side. The skin of her knuckles was broken open and slowly bleeding from the beating she’d delivered to the poor unfortunate soul who had the misfortune of being tied to the chair in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

Well, empty was a relative term, considering the fact that no small number of their force were also there, scattered along various stretches of wall.

"Might not know anything," Recovery offered, voice hard, and Florida knew him well enough to know it came from the pain that admission dealt him.

"I don’t," the man tied to the chair sobbed. "Please, I don’t…"

"Let me talk to him."

The room went still when Florida spoke, and he could almost sense the tension settling over his companions. They knew, in theory, where he got his info from. They knew about the normal information webs that he and CT had cast out in the underworld. They knew about contacts and research and money changing hands to get what he needed. They knew about the times when Florida used the hard way learn what he was paid to learn.

They only suspected the slow way. Never had any confirmation of it, not even CT. Florida was always so certain to clean up after himself. And he only confirmed the slow way by suggesting he could get something out of their ‘guest’ after Number One’s application of the hard way.

"Carolina…" North cut in, his voice filled with a strange concern that Florida was certain he shouldn’t feel considering the situation.

"Everyone out," she snapped, her vibrant green eyes hard as she stared at him.

"I don’t think…" Recovery started, and Florida watched her whirl, give Recovery what had to be the particular glare that demanded to know if he was daring to question her, and Florida just stood there as everyone else began to filter out.

"What do you need?" she asked, returning her attention to Florida, and he stared at their guest for a moment, let himself run through his full inventory of tools, and determine what the best arrangement would be.

"The black bag under my cot labeled with a silver three," he decided at length, waiting for everyone else to be gone before he pushed off of the wall and started toward the man he had already recategorized as ‘meat’ in his head. He strolled a slow circle around the meat, looked him up and down and nodded to himself. "Yes. Three will do it."

She didn’t question him, just left the room, left him behind with meat. Meat was quivering, and that was going to be annoying. The ones that came into it terrified were the hardest to deal with. They devolved into screams and mindless terror far too quickly. He’d have give the meat some drugs, keep him focused so that he could actually do something useful here. Start by addressing the wounds Number One had already inflicted. There would be no chance to start by building a connection between himself and meat. That chance had been lost. Which meant he had to go for highest shock value.

"Florida…"

He stopped, turned toward the door, and looked. CT was there, the bag in hand, concern in her eyes.

"Florida, I don’t think…"

"No one is to disturb me while I work," he cut off, voice cold and professional and lacking every single scrap of the cheer and welcoming attitude he normally offered them. That seemed to flip a switch in her mind, because when Florida approached and took the bag from her hands, she said nothing. Just backed out of the room and let Florida close the door behind her. Let him throw the bolt to secure it.

And he turned toward the meat and smiled.

"Looks like you and I are about to become quite close," Florida informed him, moving to the table that had been left in the room. He carefully placed the bag on it and then hauled the whole thing closer to the meat, making sure it was in the right place to easily hold the meat’s attention. That done he turned his attention to the bag. Unzipped it, slow and deliberate, listened to the whimpering behind him that made his spine tingle with the worst kind of pleasure. If only he had time to appreciate this the way he wanted to. But there wasn’t time, wasn’t the right situation for what he liked.

"Under other circumstances," he purred, pulling a long, thin knife from the bag and setting it on the table after twisting it this way and that to admire the metal in the light of the room, "we would have plenty of time to get to know each other. I would give an entire hour over to reviewing everything we know about each other." This time he paused to pull out an equally clean and shiny pair of pliers. "We would also sit down and make sure you understand what was about to happen to you. Discuss the five major categories of pain, which are sharp, blunt, hot, cold, and loud. I would outline just how much blood a human body can lose before it goes unconscious, and before it dies." A hack saw, this one dirtier, because it was hard to get things out from between those teeth without damaging the integrity of the metal. "And I would assure you that I am quite practiced and can keep you alive as long as I want."

Scissors. Hammer. Aerosol can and long lighter. A small pouch filled with small blades and needles that he rolled out.

"As it is, we are going to be rushed. I am very sorry to say this. It is quite unprofessional to rush such work, but desperate times and such," Florida observed, pulling out the last portion of his kit. A bundle of clothing.

"What…" the meat started to say, and Florida turned to smile at him, letting the smile grow as he saw the fear had set in on the man’s face.

"Well, you see, I am quite partial to my clothing, and you will be bleeding quite profusely in just a moment, so it would be better for me not to be wearing this," Florida explained, setting the bundle aside and starting to remove his clothes. "Blood is just so annoying to try and get out of these pants."

That seemed to scare meat, and there was silence as Florida stripped off his current outfit, pulled on the black pants and turtle neck, and set his outfit aside. Then, smiling to himself, Florida selected the long thin knife and approached the meat. Watched as those lovely brown eyes went wide with fear, and just smiled as he sat himself down in the man’s lap.

"Now, I know you’ve been telling Carolina that you don’t know anything, but you must understand," Florida said with a sigh as he tapped the flat of the knife against he man’s cheek, "I need the truth. Those children are important to my friends, important to me, and I have no intention of allowing your employers to retain possession of them. Are you going to give me what I want?"

"I don’t kn…"

"Wrong answer," Florida sighed, lowering the blade between them and cutting the man’s shirt open. "Please don’t be difficult. My schedule is just so tight today."

"I swear, I don’t…"

Florida leaned back, pinched the meat’s nipple between his fingers, and resisted the urge to moan at the scream.

******

There hadn’t been any screams in twenty minutes. Carolina didn’t know whether that was a good thing, or a bad. All she knew was that the silence that had descended after an hour of wet, pained screams had almost been more terrifying than the initial screams. CT had abandoned the vigil on the door almost immediately. South had followed her after less than ten minutes. In Carolina had been left with only one companion, a quiet and pensive Maine.

She jumped at the sound of the bolt on the door being thrown back, pushed off and waited, hovered, hoped. Lost all hope when she saw Florida’s utterly blank expression when the door opened. He looked the same as she had seen him when he had closed the door behind him, dressed in his pristine blues. The black bag he’d had her fetch hung from his loose grip, and when his dead gray eyes met hers, she knew.

"He knew nothing," Florida explained.

"That’s not possible," Carolina growled, advancing on Florida and freezing when she caught sight of the man she had left in the room with Florida.

She pushed past Florida, pushed into the room, and stared into the room. The floor was splashed with blood, but that wasn’t something that bothered her. There was no being a merc in her line of work without getting used to the sight of blood. What she wasn’t used to, would never be used to, couldn’t prepare for, was the state of the man she had left in Florida’s care.

Carolina had spent so long with their captive, she was certain she could have recognized him anywhere. What she was left staring at, though, was barely recognizable as human. There was a small pile of fingers in the man’s lap, including both of the man’s big toes. That was clearly the nicest thing Florida had done.

No one would have recognized his face. The man’s eyes were staring wide at her, and Carolina could see that it was because his eyelids had been cut from his face. Those were the most minor losses when compared to the gaping hole where the man’s nose should have been, the odd shape of his face when his ears had been cut off, and Carolina was almost sick when she looked at the bloody mess of his teeth, left easily visible by the lack of lips and the blood hollow spots that had once been his cheeks and now just widened the bloody smile the corpse was left with.

"Flori…"

"I can assure you, Carolina, he knew nothing."

She just stood there, staring, cataloging the wounds as she listened to Florida walk away. The wet red spots on the man’s chest that had once been covered by skin and nipples. The lack of skin on the back of his hands. The pant leg that had been torn open and the knee cap that laid discarded on the floor. The mangled mess of a shoulder that had clearly been laid open with care and devotion to the task.

Carolina struggled to keep the nausea down. It was almost as hard as fighting back the despair.

_Let them never know what I allowed him to do for them._

_Let them never know it was for nothing._


End file.
